


nightingale

by nonbinaryezrabridger



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Tenderness, don’t copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryezrabridger/pseuds/nonbinaryezrabridger
Summary: “Anybody watching?”He could mean the humans around them, but he knows Aziraphale knows what he really means: angels, demons, any other nonhuman peoples peeking in on them. Azriphale shakes his head, that beautiful curly hair of his flopping with the movement. Then the angel extends a hand, which Crowley takes, pretending it doesn’t make his heart beat faster. They exchange disguises, the change flowing over them. Crowley shakes himself, glad to be back to his usual self, and next to him Aziraphale pats his chest down as if checking he’s all in one piece.Their hands are still connected, and Crowley knows he should let go but he doesn't. He wants to feel that warm grip forever, the soft skin of Aziraphale’s palm against his own. Apparently Azriphale doesn’t want to let go either, as he continues to hold on as well. Slowly, gently, Crowley lets his thumb trace circles over the back of Aziraphale’s hand, feeling the rise and fall of tendons and veins under his skin.





	nightingale

**Author's Note:**

> I finally gave in and watched good omens and I am so frustrated with there not being canon gayness in the show that I had to fix it. Hope you enjoy!

\------------

Crowley sits next to his angel on the park bench, listening to the birds above them chirp peacefully. Runners jog past behind them, other humans walking dogs or looking at their phones as they go by. The park is thrumming with life and yet they’re in their own little bubble of quiet and peace. It’s perfect, to say the least. 

Other than how hard the bench is on his bum. He shifts, spreading his legs open wider as he tries to get comfortable. He may also be aware of how the fabric of his jeans pulls tight over his thighs and how attractive it makes him look. He doesn’t expect Aziraphale to notice, but it’s in his nature to attempt tempting him anyways. And maybe, there’s a small part of Crowley that is constantly screaming for Aziraphale’s attention. He pushes down and ignores that part most of the time, but it’s becoming quite convincing as he sits here.

The end of the world is over for now and they’re both safe. Why not indulge himself and let himself lean a little closer to the angel?

He waits a moment and then drawls:

“Anybody watching?”

He could mean the humans around them, but he knows Aziraphale knows what he really means: angels, demons, any other nonhuman peoples peeking in on them. Azriphale shakes his head, that beautiful curly hair of his flopping with the movement. Then the angel extends a hand, which Crowley takes, pretending it doesn’t make his heart beat faster. They exchange disguises, the change flowing over them. Crowley shakes himself, glad to be back to his usual self, and next to him Aziraphale pats his chest down as if checking he’s all in one piece.

Their hands are still connected, and Crowley knows he should let go but he doesn't. He wants to feel that warm grip forever, the soft skin of Aziraphale’s palm against his own. Apparently Azriphale doesn’t want to let go either, as he continues to hold on as well. Slowly, gently, Crowley lets his thumb trace circles over the back of Aziraphale’s hand, feeling the rise and fall of tendons and veins under his skin. 

Aziraphale isn’t looking at him or at their hands, he stares off into the distance. Crowley lets his eyes fix on his face, knowing that his sunglasses will hide his intent stare. Finally, after a long moment of rhythmic motions of his thumb, Aziraphale turns back to look at him. His blue eyes shine in the sunlight as he stares intensely at Crowley. He intones, softly, so quietly Crowley almost misses it:

“Crowley.”

Crowley has always loved his name, after all he picked it himself, but he never loves it more than when it’s coming out of Aziraphale’s mouth. It leaves him speechless for a moment, and when he manages to speak, it’s filled with a dangerous amount of emotion.  
“Yes, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s mouth works at that, as if he had been caught off guard, and he remains silent. Crowley waits, watching him, tracing his features. The strong bridge of his nose, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the pinkness of his lips. Crowley is suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him, as he has many times before in their relationship. He had always stopped himself before, but now he wonders, why not? What’s stopping him? 

He’s already outcast from hell and known for consorting with an angel, does he have any reputation left to tarnish? Not really. 

But then there’s the clawing fear of what ifs. What if he kisses him and is rejected and loses Aziraphale forever? Could he stand it? Is it worth the risk?

Part of him quails, wants to rip his hand away and hide behind a gruff facade like always. But then he remembers being in that burning bookshop, unable to find Aziraphale, how much it had hurt. It must be worth the risk, if he’s only brave enough.

He shifts on the bench, turning his body towards the angel, and slowly raises the hand not clasped in Aziraphale’s. It trembles slightly as he slowly reaches out to cup the angel’s cheek. Aziraphale watches it’s approach with wide eyes, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans into the movement, nuzzling his soft cheek against Crowley’s palm. His eyes fall shut as he does and he looks totally content like that, which makes Crowley’s heart ache with gladness. He wants his angel to feel safe and happy all the time, but especially when he’s with him.

Crowley clears his throat and finally speaks:

“May I kiss you, Angel?”

Aziraphale smiles, his eyes still shut as he nods. Crowley’s heart skips a beat but he leans in slowly, hesitantly. He is so close he can feel Aziraphale’s breath brushing across his face and he has to stop for a moment, leaning in to touch their foreheads together, feeling overwhelmed. His own eyes have fallen shut but he hears Aziraphale chuckle softly before the angel leans in, slotting their faces together in a gentle kiss. It’s chaste and sweet and everything Crowley has ever wanted. 

They stay like that for a long moment before Crowley pulls away, feeling like he’ll explode if he stays any longer. His cheeks are red and he mentally curses at himself; how embarrassing! But when he looks at Aziraphale all he sees is love, love for him overflowing in his beautiful eyes. 

Crowley finally finds his words and offers:

“Can I tempt you with lunch?”

And Aziraphale smiles so brightly he puts the sun to shame. 

\-------------


End file.
